


Broken Smiles Shine Brighter

by mia6363



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Graphic Description, Injury Recovery, M/M, semi graphic description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To this day he’ll never get over how he wasn’t taken to a musty abandoned warehouse with poor lighting and numerous chains swinging from the ceiling for no discernible reason. Maybe he watched too many movies, but still, there was an expectation that was not being met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Smiles Shine Brighter

It was a summer night, too humid to be outdoors and Karen and Foggy were sitting at a twenty-four hour diner sipping on strawberry milkshakes. It was pretty typical, staying until the owner got annoyed at their continuous loud laughter. Foggy couldn’t help it, he was a natural comedian and it was easier to distract himself from the fact that Matt was off somewhere “fighting crime” rather than staying home alone and getting fitful sleep because he wanted to stay awake just in case he got a call or text… or a bleeding Matt falling through his window. 

He walked Karen back to her place because he always has before he started to make his way back to his apartment. As he pushed his door open he thought about how nice a hot shower was going to feel and about the meeting with a new client the next day (a little old lady who made the best lemon bars Foggy had ever tasted). 

Foggy was still drooling over the possibility of more lemon bars when the syringe slipped right into his neck. Foggy’s knees immediately buckled and his vision started swimming like he’d been spun around a thousand times.

He remembered thinking, as his knees hit the floor, that he had to knock something over so that Matt (and the police) knew he was taken against his will. He slumped forward, cheek mashed against his cracked hardwood floor and he lost consciousness hoping Matt would get there soon.

::::

When he woke up Foggy could still taste strawberries. 

To this day he’ll never get over how he wasn’t taken to a musty abandoned warehouse with poor lighting and numerous chains swinging from the ceiling for no discernible reason. Maybe he watched too many movies, but _still_ , there was an expectation that was not being met. 

Foggy first noticed, to his amusement, a zen garden. A nice one too, with a little stream running through the room and an area of white sand that Foggy would have loved to drag a tiny rake through it if he wasn’t tied to a chair. 

He wasn’t alone.

Standing in the sand was… a woman. Beautiful in a haunting way, and Foggy could feel his brain struggling to put a name to her face, she seemed so familiar. Her eyes were like metal and she was barefoot. Foggy wasn’t sure why he focused on that as her lips curled. Her smile wasn’t warm or cold… it was disturbingly neutral. 

It wasn’t until she was inches away from him that he finally got the name.

Vanessa Marianna. Fisk’s fiancé. 

Foggy swallowed but didn’t say anything. He watched her watch him, her eyes flat. 

“You know who I am.” It wasn’t a question. Her blouse was nice, it went well with her pencil skirt and Foggy tried to focus on keeping his breathing even. “Your partner took the love of my life away. He could have been free but… the Devil put him back in chains.” Her lower lip began to quiver and her formerly impassive eyes were now aflame. “I’m going to take away what the Devil loves most. By the time I’m through he won’t even _recognize_ you.”

Her lips pulled back into a snarl and wow, okay, four men were in the room and they had plastic sheeting in their hands. 

They lifted up his chair effortlessly and Foggy flinched as Vanessa’s frigid hands touched his face. Her fingers ran over his face, a mockery of a loving caress. 

“Sweet Matthew will never be able to feel this face as it once was.”

Two big hands that were not Vanessa’s came from behind and gripped Foggy’s head like a vice. He felt an incredible heat and Foggy was screaming before the blowtorch’s flame made his skin bubble and blacken. 

::::

Foggy had to hand it to Vanessa, she knew how to keep someone alive… even if all Foggy wanted was for it all to end. Any time he’d go into shock, his blood pouring out of him and making him feel like he’d finally be able to float away from this nightmare—she’d stop the pain. 

Doctors and nurses would sweep in and bring Foggy back. Every fucking time. 

He’d lost count of how many times he’d been revived. He couldn’t tell if he’d been gone for days, weeks, or months. He woke up to lavender sheets and the smell of lemongrass. He felt different, and when he looked down, making a noise in the back of his throat, Vanessa answered him.

“We cleaned you. Thoroughly, so that you won’t smell like you.” Foggy couldn’t bring himself to glare at her. He could barely move even as she touched a serrated blade to his lips. “Just one more, Mr. Nelson, and I’ll be ready to send you home.”

In retrospect, the last cut was nothing compared to what the rest of his body had gone through. The burns, cuts, abrasions—one little cut up the left side of his mouth shouldn’t have hurt the worst… but it did. 

Tears rolled down his cheeks and Vanessa’s hands were steady as she sang a lullaby.

The next time we woke, Karen was there. She was crying and Foggy squeezed her hand even though it hurt the tips of his fingers. She hiccupped, wiping her nose with one hand and caressing his face with the other. She couldn’t speak very well and neither could Foggy, his throat, like the rest of him, was really fucked up. 

“F-Foggy—” She couldn’t keep her eyes on him for long, she could only manage short glances at him. “I called Matt, he’s on his way.”

Foggy sighed, his eyes flickering to the window. The blinds were drawn, so there was no hint of getting even a vague reflection. Still, Vanessa had been thorough and his body throbbed in places Foggy hadn’t known they could throb. Karen was good; she was quiet, keeping her hand in Foggy’s until they both heard the sound of Matt’s cane tapping down the hallway. Foggy’s grip tightened in Karen’s hand. 

“I-I—” and _God_ they’d even changed his voice, turning it into a ruined rasp, “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

Foggy struggle to sit up, Karen hurrying to help as the _tap-tap-tap_ got closer. Because Foggy hadn’t had time to think about Vanessa’s goal, but now it was real—it was happening because Matt was in the doorway.

The first thing Foggy noticed was Matt was paler… and even skinner and that made Foggy’s heart twist. Matt frowned, and he took off his glasses. The confusion on his face made Foggy want to disappear. 

“Foggy?”

Foggy felt like he was going to fall to pieces, he was shaking so hard. He knew whatever Vanessa washed him with was throwing Matt off—hell the only thing Matt might have recognized was his heartbeat, but Foggy had the feeling all heartbeats sounded the same. Every part of Foggy was in agony as he became more and more awake, but it never distracted him from Matt’s face. 

Matt reached out, to touch him—and Foggy felt his heartbeat kick up its speed. He caught Matt’s hand, trembling as Matt’s fingers twitched, feeling the bandages over the places where fingernails were _supposed_ to be. 

“No—no, Matty.” Foggy took a deep breath, trying to calm down because the adrenalin was making him shake. “You don’t want to see me like this, buddy.”

Foggy smiled even though it pulled at the stitches across his lips. Matt’s frown deepened. Matt’s hands were warm and steady as his fingers gently pressed against the inside of Foggy’s wrist. 

“Karen.” Karen jumped, partially because Matt had been silent for so long and partially because his voice cracked. Matt swallowed, his hazel eyes wet. “Karen, can… can you give us a minute? More like… twenty minutes.”

Karen glanced to Foggy, and man, she was fantastic. He hoped she knew that as he nodded. Karen smiled.

“You got it, Matt.”

Karen left. Foggy watched Matt listen to her heels click farther and farther away until Matt finally let out a long exhale. Both of his hands gently gripped Foggy’s hand. He was trembling and Foggy wanted to do anything to make it better. 

“Foggy, please… I just need to see.”

Foggy nodded, his breath just as shaky as Matt’s. 

“She said… she didn’t want you to recognize me.”

Matt’s fingers trailed down Foggy’s arms, catching on the burns. Chemical burns and burns from actual fire looked and felt different. Vanessa told Foggy this after the blowtorch burned the side of Foggy’s face. She said that the scars from fire were beautiful, shiny with tight patterns that she envied when she saw them on another’s skin. 

Chemical burns were ugly, abrasive, and unnaturally red. Vanessa kept those where clothes could cover them and the fire burns where the world could see. Matt’s hands were on Foggy’s shoulders. Bandages covered most of the damage. Matt’s left hand went to Foggy’s head, expecting hair but instead falling on… skin and prickly, burnt hair. 

Matt made a thick, broken sound as his other hand drifted down Foggy’s face. Foggy closed his eyes, tracking Matt’s fingers catching on the spider-web burns that stretched from his temple to his lower cheek. His noise was bruised, swollen, and his neck was bruised from the hourly choking he’d get to put stress on his vocal chords. There where thin ribbons where the ropes dug into his skin that looped around his neck. Matt traced them softly, almost tickling him before he want back to Foggy’s lips. 

Foggy let out a long breath, his lips catching on Matt’s fingers. Foggy opened his eyes and took a long breath, trying to think of a joke to soften Matt’s intensely grim expression. Instead, Matt ducked down—

_Whoa_.

Matt’s lips were soft. Foggy smiled against Matt’s lips because how could he not? Foggy felt… whole, like all his wounds were healed, that his body was back in one piece as he cupped Matt’s face with his bandaged fingers. Matt’s breath was rough, his tongue sliding past Foggy’s lips. Foggy nipped Matt’s tongue and hummed because it made Matt sway and shake—

Matt was shaking hard, and not in the sexy way. He was sweating, his eyes open—and Foggy pulled back. Matt blinked, a muffled, confused noise slipping from his throat. His cheeks were pink; Foggy took some comfort in that as he sighed.

“All right… I get that guilt is a part of your life, man, but don’t kiss me because you’re guilty.” Matt hung his head and Foggy flicked Matt’s nose. “Hey, just, you know, kiss me when you’re feelin’ it. Not because you feel bad. That’s not sexy.” 

The bed creaked as Matt leaned against it, his hands on either side of Foggy’s head.

“But—”

Foggy shook his head and Matt’s jaws snapped shut with a loud click. He wondered what Matt could hear when Foggy brushed hair out of Matt’s eyes, touching softly, tenderly like he’d always wanted to.

“I’m serious. Kiss me when you’re into it and I promise I’ll have you melting, Matt. But until then, I’m not into guilt kissing, got it?” Matt nodded and Foggy smiled, stitches be damned. “Good.”

Karen came back with lemon teacakes from Foggy’s favorite bakery. The doctor munched on one as he pointed out that whoever painted Foggy with new scars and broken bones had an excellent ability in aftercare, as if Foggy had been taken care of by medical professionals. Karen’s mouth fell open and Matt’s face darkened savagely. It wasn’t until late, when everyone’s gone home, when the window to the hospital opened. 

Foggy had been waiting. He turned to see Matt in costume. 

“Who was it?”

If there were small blessings about Matt’s vigilante life choices, it was that he didn’t do the Batman voice with Foggy. Foggy pulled his blankets higher up his body.

“If I tell you, what are you going to do?” When Matt didn’t answer Foggy rolled his eyes. “If you stoop to their level what does that make _you_? I’d rather do this through the legal system.” Foggy watched Matt’s frown deepened and burn before it smoothed out. “Keep on the costume if you need it to get dirt we can legally use in court.”

Matt bowed his head, a strong gust of wind roaring through the window, sending the white curtains billowing inward. Foggy couldn’t be sure if Matt was still there, the white sheets swallowing home whole. 

Foggy murmured her name in the dark, and by the time the curtain’s settled Foggy’s window was empty. 

::::

Foggy liked to say that the worst part was his hair and how he had to cut it. And sure, having to get his hair buzzed was a serious bummer… but no, that wasn’t the worst part. 

It’s the little things. Like not being able to breathe for no logical reason in the cereal aisle at Trader Joes and having to hole himself in the bathroom for twenty minutes until his heart stops trying to crawl out of his mouth. Or… how showering wasn’t enjoyable anymore because each drop of water stung against the chemical burns and made Foggy flinch and drop his shampoo. It’s how he can’t hold pens for too long because his fingernails are still growing back in and too much pressure on his fingertips hurts.

There were a thousand tiny reminders, every day, and Foggy couldn’t wait for the day where they all faded away.

Matt still worries. He wasn’t _saying_ anything, of course, but it was still obvious. Foggy knew it was helping Matt feel better too, so he didn’t mind that much. 

Most nights, Foggy didn’t sleep alone. He might go to bed by himself, but night after night Foggy would wake to strong arms around him and warm breath on his neck. Sometimes Matt would be bleeding and bruised, sometimes he wouldn’t. Foggy thought that after they nailed Vanessa for embezzlement that it would be over. Instead, Foggy invested in silk sheets so Matt would be comfortable. 

Foggy woke in a cold sweat and a scream lodged in his throat. Vanessa’s calm voice still echoed in his ears as she pressed the knife against his lips.

“I got you.” Matt’s voice swallowed Vanessa’s in the dark. Foggy’s heart thudded loud and Matt’s fingers pressed gently on Foggy’s palms. “I’m here. You’re safe.” 

He was reassuring them both, if they were going to be honest. Foggy turned so he was facing Matt. Matt tugged the sheets up and hummed, his fingers resting on Foggy’s face. Back in their college days Matt would be the one having nightmares and the only way to calm him down was for him to touch Foggy’s face, to make sure he was still there. It was too intimate of a detail to share with Karen. 

Most nights Foggy slept with Matt’s hand on his face, his thumb gently stroking his cheek until he slipped back into sleep. 

::::

“Hm… well, I think everyone here can agree that Vichy Ritual is needed in both our cases, and he’ll have the Gentleman’s Facial and for me, an Anti-Aging one, and let’s throw some manicures on top of that.” 

To the receptionist’s credit she didn’t hesitate before ushering Foggy and a beaming Marci inside. Foggy’s hair was almost touching his shoulders and his chemical burns were beginning to fade. Marci led him by the wrist into the changing rooms, handing him a robe before kicking off her heels. Foggy had toed off one of his shoes before Marci was naked and Foggy dropped his things in order to cover his eyes. 

“Jesus, Marci, give a guy some warning.”

She giggled when Foggy peeked through his fingers, and she was thankfully wearing her robe.

“Hurry up, I’ve been drying to try this place out.”

Foggy wasn’t really a huge spa guy, but he had gotten regular manicures with Marci when they’d been a thing. This was a little much, but Foggy really, really couldn’t complain when he was soaking in a bath that smelled like magic tea while he ate frozen grapes. Marci laid still in the tub next to him, her blond hair up in a sloppy bun.

“Okay, I admit… this is really nice.”

Marci hummed.

“Just wait until their mud baths, Foggy Bear. They’re rumored to have stolen the recipe and techniques from a monastery in Tibet.”

Karen was still wary about Marci, and Foggy got it, he really did. Because Marci ate men and women for breakfast with little thought, but once she’d stopped by the office and said, “Oh good, your nails are back. I’m taking you out for a manicure,” Foggy couldn’t’ help but smile. Matt had flinched; he still did sometimes when Foggy’s fingers would bump against him or if Matt felt the burns on Foggy’s wrist. 

Marci never flinched. She saw Foggy, digested him, and moved on. She wasn’t the type to treat him like glass.

They were deep into their herbal mud soak when Marci bumped his leg with her toes.

“Your sweetie seems even more guilt-ridden than the average Roman Catholic.”

Foggy huffed a little, sinking deeper into the mud.

“Yeah. He took this,” Foggy gestured to all of himself, “pretty hard.” Marci hummed, an opening but not a push for more. That moment of allowance was the closest she’d ever come to expressing pity. Foggy closed his eyes, gathering up his courage. “He kissed me.” There was silence and Foggy opened his eyes to see Marci climbing out of the bath, mud falling form her body as she grabbed a damp towel and began to wipe herself down. Foggy almost missed catching the towel when she threw it at him. “What, nothing?”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Let me know when something _big_ happens.” 

“That is big! A kiss is very big!”

Marci pulled him out of the mud and they made their way to the cool baths. 

“Oh Foggy, sweet heart you are too precious. Sweet summer child precious.” 

Foggy pushed her into the cold water and told himself her shriek was worth it when she yanked him in and held him under the water. When he surfaced she ran her fingers through his hair. 

“You look better with long hair. Keep growing it out.” 

The attendant brought out oils that smelled of strong mint. Their fingers were gentle and they didn’t hesitate at the burns on the side of his face. It felt so nice, someone touching him with no pity or expectation. He must have made a sound of appreciation because Marci spoke, a smug smile lacing her voice. 

“I knew you needed this.”

It wasn’t until they were pulling on their clothes, Foggy feeling whole for the first time since he was taken, that he spoke again.

“He did it out of guilt. So… I told him to get back to me when he means it.” Marci stilled, her stockings half rolled up and Foggy hung his head. “I don’t think he ever will though. I mean, he’s a Roman Catholic, guilt is in his blood and… I’m… not.” 

Foggy aimed for indifference, but his voice wavered at the last second. Marci did him the favor of acting like she didn’t hear it was she slipped into her heels. She tugged on his hair, pulling him up to his feet. 

“Those types can be the best, all that pent up passion just waiting to be unleashed.” She winked. “Trust me, he’s had a taste, he’ll want more.” 

::::

It was Sunday and Foggy and Matt were in a hole-in-the-wall nursery surrounded by plants. Rain beat against the glass sunroof and Foggy was giggling because—

“Yes, Foggy, living rocks are a—really? Are you actually breathing enough?” Foggy was crying. He knew he should be embarrassed especially since the poor cashier looked like she was two minutes away from calling the police. Matt’s face was doing the strange mixture of amused and concerned, a tiny wrinkle forming between his brows. “Okay, Foggy, they’re ready not that funny.” 

Foggy waved his hand, taking a shuddering inhale while wiping his eyes. 

“No, but—they‘re rocks. And if you forget to water them—they’re slightly more dead rocks.” Foggy giggled, high-pitched and ludicrous. He may need more sleep. He turned to the cashier, who jumped. “We’ll take the whole shelf of these rocky guys.” 

As the young girl with wild curls and dark skin moved quickly with burlap bags Matt sighed. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Sure, but it’s all a part of my charm.” 

The giggles, thankfully, died down. Foggy was left feeling light-headed and… good. Matt was holding his arm, laughing softly, and Foggy was—was good and he was going to walk home without an umbrella because that’s hot great he was feeling—

Calloused hands cupped his cheeks and Foggy’s eyes had time to widen before Matt kissed him. 

His lips were soft and his hands were steady as they moved from Foggy’s cheeks to his shoulders. Foggy chased the taste of Matt’s smile, playfully swiping his tongue over Matt’s lower lip before pulling back, his breathing pleasantly shallow. 

“Really? The rock plants did it?”

“No.” Matt licked his lips and Foggy knew that Matt knew how it made his heart thud harder in his chest. “Not the rock plants.”

And yeah, Matt was holding himself weird because he had wicked bad bruises on his ribs. There were bruises on Matt’s temple and one of his molars was chipped… but his eyes crinkled at the sides and… he was happy. Foggy’s chest constricted, and yeah, so what if he was tearing up? It was a heartfelt moment—

“Uh,” Foggy and Matt turned abruptly to the cashier. She was trying not to smile, her cheeks pink. “Cash or credit?” 

Foggy fumbled with his wallet as Matt chuckled, his cheek pressing against Foggy’s shoulder the same way he would when they’d wander around campus late at night. Matt tangled their fingers together because he was a secret romantic, and the cashier gave them a discount. 

Some nights Matt would have a relapse in his guilt. 

Foggy could never predict it, if it was just a vibe or the way the water would run over Foggy’s changed skin. He knew it must be disturbing to have his soft, chubby bits interlaced with tough scar tissue. There were times when Foggy could see Matt slipping back into the past, during those few weeks when Foggy hadn’t been sure if he’d ever come back. 

“Hey.” Foggy firmly gripped Matt’s chin. “Come on, I’m _here_ , Matt, I’m here, it’s okay.” 

Matt shook his head, his eyes glassy.

“No—no, it’s not, it’s my fault.”

One of the many perks about dating Matt was that Foggy could kiss him to put a stop to his guilt-ridden ramblings. Matt made a broken sound against Foggy’s lips. Foggy took Matt’s hand, guiding his fingers to Foggy’s hair, his face and chest. 

“I’m whole.” Matt shuddered and Foggy moved his lips to Matt’s neck, gently running his teeth over the spot that never failed to make Matt shake and moan. “Do you want me to fuck you to prove it?”

The noise Matt made had Foggy’s blood sizzling in his veins. Matt arched his back as Foggy pushed him down onto the mattress, grabbing the lube off the night table and coating his fingers as Matt’s leg hooked around Foggy’s shoulder. Foggy’s fingers crept up Matt’s thigh and when he paused, Matt’s headed thudded against the pillow. 

“Fuck me, Foggy, _please_.” 

Foggy throbbed, his cock low and heavy between his legs. He swallowed, pressing his fingers inside Matt, still stretched out from the night before but Foggy liked prepping him. He liked making Matt twist against the sheets, grinding down against his fingers, his perfect mouth slack and parted. 

He loved how sloppy Matt’s kisses got, like he couldn’t keep track of which way was up, not when Foggy was pressing against his prostate and sucking at his nipples. 

“Ah, ah—Foggy—” Matt squeezed himself around Foggy’s fingers. “I’m gonna,” he swallowed, his throat bobbing, “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”

Foggy stilled before shifting up so he could kiss Matt. 

“Coming is a good thing. A very good thing.”

Matt rolled his eyes, his smile goofy and carefree—Foggy’s favorite look on him. 

“Yeah, but I want you inside me.”

Foggy’s hands shook as he removed his fingers and rolled on a condom. 

“All right, little duck.”

Some nights Matt needed to be taken apart, thoroughly, but Foggy’s tongue and hands. Foggy fucked Matt in tune with his breathing, making Matt’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. 

When Foggy sucked a mean bruise on the side of Matt’s neck he came hard, squeezing so tight that Foggy didn’t take much longer before he was still inside of him, gently rubbing Matt’s thighs and stomach. 

Those nights Matt needed to hold Foggy. Even if it put a strain on vigilante related injuries, Matt’s arms would be around Foggy, keeping Foggy’s head on his chest. Foggy didn’t mind, even if he’d wake up hot and sweaty. If it put Matt at ease he could deal with it. 

Matt whimpered when Foggy pulled out. Foggy kissed his temple, smiling against Matt’s sweaty skin.

“What do you say, five minute break before round two?”

Matt laughed loud, rolling Foggy onto his back. When he ran over Foggy’s scars he didn’t hesitate. Mission accomplished. 

::::

Foggy’s giggles echoed off of the courthouse walls. They’d just wrapped their case and Foggy was the object of affection to the client’s daughter. She was a bubbly eight year old who was enthusiastic about stickers and French braids. Matt could hear Foggy’s hair falling between her little fingers. 

High heels and Chanel no 9 came striding up beside him. Matt turned and heard Marci’s smug grin on her voice. 

“Look at you, allowing some enjoyment in your day.” Matt didn’t respond. He respected Marci, but was still wary of her. Her nails gently scratched along his arm, pressing against the fabric of his suit. “It’s a good look on him.”

At first Matt felt a vile rage rise up in him because he thought Marci meant Foggy’s scars—but then he heard the soft, genuine warmth in her voice. Foggy laughed, and the girl joined in. Matt heard him turn around and he heard Foggy gasp a little. 

“Matt, you’re back? Hey, Marci!”

Marci straightened and her lips brushed Matt’s ear when she whispered. 

“I meant the platinum. Good choice of metal, by the way. It’s good on you, but no offense, even better on him.”

The ring was a comfort to Matt, and he liked the feel of it on Foggy’s matching finger. Foggy pulled Matt into a warm hug, cheek to cheek. He was so bright, brighter than he had any right to be, and Matt would still remember those days when… it felt like the world had been torn away from him—Foggy was _gone_ and Matt thought he’d lost the most important person in his life. 

There are moments when Matt thinks, “This is it, the happiest I can be,” and yet he knows it’s not true. With Foggy, tomorrow was a new and bright opportunity. 

He laughed louder than ever, smiled wider—hugged tighter—if Foggy were a tree he’d be forever in full bloom.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here is my second attempt. Let me know what you think, any and all thoughts are welcome! <3.


End file.
